


I’m tired and angry, but somebody should be.

by youngjusticewriter



Series: The sea doesn't like to be restrained. [4]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Drabbles, Gen, I finally wrote a Luke drabble today I liked enough to post, I’ll tag more characters later, POV Outsider, Time Travel, in the background - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-12 09:32:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19129321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youngjusticewriter/pseuds/youngjusticewriter
Summary: Percy’s face didn’t twist as he spoke but that didn’t mean his expression was a good one. There was something stoney about it, or, Luke reconsidered, it was like the ocean. Just because it - the sea, his expression- looked peaceful didn’t mean it wouldn’t kill you upon the chance. It was that thought that made Luke wondered what was the exact number Percy’s teen angst had as a body count.





	1. Luke 1.

Percy looked down at the steaming cup Luke passed him before the kid looked back up at him with squinted eyes. Percy’s green eyes - vivid, old things - are unnerving things to be under the scrutiny of but Luke doesn’t falter under them. 

“Where did you steal this?” Was the first thing out of Percy’s mouth. It made Luke’s lips almost rise enough to smile. He smiled anyway. 

“I didn’t actually,” Luke told Percy with humor laced in his voice. Luke, after putting down his Heathers coffee cup, took a seat next to his newest cabin mate. The roof of their cabin dug into him but Luke didn’t pay it any mind. He had endured worse after all and surely would go through more pain when the time came. “When you’re the head of a cabin you get access to the Big House's kitchen. There’s an old coffee pot in there.” 

Percy hummed at that. The younger boy ended up taking another sip of the bitter coffee (his mouth still didn’t twist at the taste) before he spoke. “You know most adults wouldn’t want a teenager drinking coffee.” 

Luke snorted at that and didn’t point out that Percy was a year away from being a teenager. “Most adults would be telling you to get off the roof and most of them don’t know about ambrosia. The stuff doesn’t just heal wounds, you know.” 

Luke turned his face a bit away from the sunrise to see Percy’s expression. Green eyes were focused on the contents of the chipped coffee cup (it was a Heather one too but unlike Luke’s it didn’t have any text on it) instead the view from up here. Percy’s expression was a troubled one. It was an expression that clearly stated he was heavy in thought despite how much he hadn’t slept. Percy’s eyes flickered up to his then, apparently having felt Luke’s gaze on him. 

In a soft voice Luke spoke again, “You know if you ever want to talk about whatever being a demi-god has made you go through before camp I’m always opened to listening. You’re not the first kid and you won’t be the last who can’t immediately process what they’ve had to go through.” 

Percy’s eyes flickered to the warm cup in between Luke’s hands and an eyebrow was raised in challenge. Luke knew something sarcastic was about to be spewed despite the gift of a cup of coffee. Pain from familiarity - of Thalia - was like a weed in Luke’s chest that threatened to suffocate him from how fast it was growing. Maybe it wasn’t growing fast, Luke amended as Percy opened his mouth to speak. Maybe it had been growing for a while now, egged on by conversations in dreams but it wasn’t till meeting Percy it had been given fertilizer. 

“I’ll tell you my teen angst body count if you tell me yours, diary,” was what Percy told him in reference to Luke’s coffee cup. There was no humor in those tired green eyes but humor had found Luke. The cup in his hands shook and some drops of coffee fell out and burnt him but Luke continued to laugh. 

When his laughter died down Luke congratulated the boy on the joke. “Good one,” Luke told him with a wide smile despite the pain in his chest. It was a good thing the pain you felt never showed on your body otherwise blood would blossom on his chest like Luke had been shot and it would grow (and grow, and grow, until there was nothing left but festering wounds). 

“My mom she, uh, likes- no,” Percy’s expression twisted - what an ugly sight it would have been to someone else - at the realization, he would have to correct his tenses when speaking about his mother, “liked horror movies. Heathers actually isn’t a real horror movie but it was one of her favorite movies anyway.” The longing the younger boy felt was easy to be heard in his voice. 

Luke’s eyes dropped back to his own cup of coffee that was cradled between his rough palms. Now it was his turn to be in too heavy in thought about his own mother and his mouth twisted into some bitter expression despite the view of the sun - one that was beautiful no matter how many times he had seen it - before them. He took a sip of coffee and its bitterness was nothing like the taste of burnt cookies. (His bitten nails would dig into the skin behind his ears from how hard Luke had covered his ears while he stayed curled up in the closet. No matter how hard he kept his palms over them he could still hear her - still hear that raspy, lying voice that did not belong to his mother.) When Percy spoke Luke was thankful to be brought out from thoughts on his early childhood. 

“Yeah?” Luke replied. 

“Thank you for the coffee but next time sneak me into the Big House so I can make it. That or add some salt to it.” 

It - Percy knowing how to make coffee - was something easy to focus on. Easy to direct his mind onto the question of how a twelve-year-old supposedly knew how to make better coffee despite, you know, being twelve. From what he has gathered from his cabin mates - both half-siblings and unclaimed alike - that was not something a kid was taught. 

“How do you know how to make coffee?” 

“My step-dad,” Percy’s nose wrinkled for some reason as he mentioned him, “use to make me make him some when my mom wasn’t home.” 

Percy’s face didn’t twist as he spoke but that didn’t mean his expression was a good one. There was something stoney about it, or, Luke reconsidered, it was like the ocean. Just because it - the sea, his expression- looked peaceful didn’t mean it wouldn’t kill you upon the chance. It was that thought that made Luke wondered what was the exact number Percy’s teen angst had as a body count. 

What it would one day become under Luke’s tutelage and Kronos’ whispered influence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish we met before they convinced you life is war!


	2. Grover 1.

When they entered the convenience store the cashier near the door didn’t look their way; the older teenager didn’t even look up at the sound of the bell ringing from the door opening. There was only one cashier, Grover noted before give a quick scan around the store. There was less than a handful of people in the store thanks to it being a Sunday morning. Quickly, Grover grabbed the top red shopping basket and leaned over to Percy. 

“Do you know where they keep the hair dye?” Grover asked on the off chance that his friend did. The least amount of interaction with mortals was what was best for them. If it wasn’t for the Iris message, leaving Percy with Gladiola would have been the best plan considering how his step father (the one whose scent was so pungent it was still lingering on Percy) was running him in the ground. It also would have been preferable for Grover after yesterday. He needed to get away again for a little bit from Percy despite knowing about Medusa. His emotions were - actually, Grover realized, maybe it was a good thing that Annabeth wasn’t the one he was shopping with. 

Grover hadn’t expected this quest to be easy. He wasn’t a bright-eyed kid desperately hanging onto his mother’s stories of his brave father and uncle or a teenager (even though he kinda was one still depending on the measurement of time being used) like he had been when he had found Thalia, Luke, and Annabeth. But he hadn’t been expecting this despite the assumption Chiron and Annabeth had made on Zeus being Percy’s father too. Oh, Percy had most certainly inherited the bad luck a demi-god of the big three was subjected too but it was the wrong big three they had thought his father was. Percy was Poseidon’s. It wasn’t unbelievable. Rare? Yes. Unbelievable? No, there were three famous Greek heroes (Bellerophon, Theseus, and Orion) that came to Grover’s mind that were sons of Poseidon but it just was that usually when a child belonged to a god of the big three it was because of Zeus. It had been Zeus after all who had been the first to break the pact they had made after both how their children had caused the second World War and how the great prophecy that has been made after the war. 

And Zeus hadn’t just broken the promise once Grover knew. It, what Thalia had confided to him years ago one night in desperate hope, was something that Grover would keep to himself despite the danger of the secret. Maybe Jason was already dead but if he wasn’t Grover wasn’t going to put Thalia’s younger brother in any more danger - especially not after he had failed Thalia. The ugly knotted feeling of guilt that Grover felt from the secret he had promised to Thalia could have been cut through by a sword by how Grover had felt after the last game of Capture the Flag.

“Probably in the middle?” Percy suggested just as the song that was playing in the store’s speakers finished. It had been a song by Kelly Clarkson that was about taking a long shot. 

Grover started walking towards the middle of the store, letting his actions acknowledge that, yes, he had heard his friend despite not replying back. His brown eyes scanned the aisles as he passed them. It took a minute or maybe two to realize he had lost Percy. Grover turned around and went back for him. Grover doubted Percy would use one of those terrible excuses (that apparently some man Kakashi used? Grover wasn’t sure on that one.) his friend had used during school...but then again Annabeth had told them about how Percy had lied and made excuses about the contents of a list she had found. 

The sound of a guitar filled the store as the next song started up. A woman started singing after several seconds of the guitar solo, “Another head hangs lowly. Child is slowly taken. And the violence, caused such silence. Who are we mistaken?” 

Grover found Percy looking at cooking supplies as he held a small thing of mint chocolate chip ice cream in one of his hands. There was a look on his face. It was a look Grover wouldn’t have liked even without the bond between them. It was a profound expression of lost on Percy’s face despite the fact the boy was just looking at one of those cheap cooking pots. It came back to Grover then that it wasn’t just him who had lost a family member recently and that realization was a blow to his gut. 

(Yes, his uncle had been missing for some time but that didn’t mean Grover hadn’t hoped despite the fact he should have learnt otherwise with what had happened to his father. It was just his mother and him now. Everyone in Grover’s family besides mother had given their lives up on the quest to find Pan. A part of him wondered if he was selfish to make his mother possibly endure a loss of another loved one - her last loved one— for the search for Pan if they did succeed at this quest. Maybe he should keep looking for Jason like he promised-) 

“Are you thinking about your mom?” Grover softly asked even though the closest customer - a college student was the impression the woman had given - by was a few aisles ahead of them looking over the different flavors of those packets ramen noodles that were becoming a thing. He walked a few steps closer but didn’t touch Percy. Percy had not reacted well last night when Annabeth and Grover had tried to bring him out of that second panic attack he had had during the time they had been with Medusa. 

“No,” Percy denied, shaking his head as though the action, the denial that went past his dried lips, would bring his mom back. The expression of confusion flashed on his face and lingered on it for a few seconds. Then his knitted eyebrows loosened and his expression became flat but his emotions still sung of denial and guilt. That guilt left Grover wondering because, yes, grief had plagued Percy but not once had Percy felt guilty about his mom’s death - that was good though. It was Hades’ fault after all, not Percy’s. It was Hades’ fault for his mom and Thalia’s deaths and for taking the master bolt that would cause a war between the gods. 

Without a word, Percy put the pint of mint chocolate ice cream. He had picked well even if they were not suppose to be spending money on desserts while on a quest. That flavor was a popular one - it actually was one Annabeth’s favorites, Grover knew from the times he had spent hanging out with Luke and Annabeth when he wasn’t searching for demigods. 

Percy reached out and grabbed the pot and one of the glass lids that were next to the pile of pots. There was a solemn expression on his face that made Grover keep his mouth shut despite the fact they should not be spending money on this while on a quest. It was bad enough they were spending money on hair dye and a leash but that was an investment, Grover told himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is a curious thing, the death of a loved one. We all know that our time in this world is limited, and that eventually all of us will end up underneath some sheet, never to wake up. And yet it is always a surprise when it happens to someone we know. It is like walking up the stairs to your bedroom in the dark, and thinking there is one more stair than there is. Your foot falls down, through the air, and there is a sickly moment of dark surprise as you try and readjust the way you thought of things.
> 
> [\\] 
> 
> This chapter is Grover’s point of view on a scene from the next chapter. 
> 
> 1.) If I remember right Greek mythology didn’t have female satyrs so I headcanon Grover’s mom is nymph. Key word being headcanon because we don’t actually know anything about Grover’s family besides the uncle Medusa killed. 
> 
> 2.) You won’t be finding out why Percy is buying the pot next chapter of the main fic but the why is important in the future.


End file.
